


I'll always be there for you

by LaGemini



Series: Holmescest [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, No Eurus Holmes, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, messages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaGemini/pseuds/LaGemini
Summary: Mycroft has a soulmate, which made John very curious about his other half.Sherlock doesn't have a soulmark. Yet.Then, Sherlock jumped and everything changed.Sherlock's journey of dismantling Moriarty's network, finding love, and Mycroft being always there for Sherlock.Slow burn, rating may go up later.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Series: Holmescest [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847773
Comments: 24
Kudos: 208





	1. Prologue

Mycroft Holmes has a soulmate.

John hasn’t paid much attention to it on their first meeting due to the circumstances, but as his days at 221B goes by, that fact was quite obvious.

People’s soulmark – soulmate’s given name – pops up when they touch their soulmate for the first time after they are 18. And due to the placement’s diversity – also with the fact that most of it could be covered during winter –, people with soulmark usually wear ring on their right ring finger to indicate others of its presence and to stave off unwanted advances. And Mycroft has worn the ring from the first time John met him.

John didn’t think much about it at first. Everyone could have soulmate, and Mycroft must be fortunate or unfortunate enough to meet his before John met him.

But as time goes by, he couldn’t help but get curious about who could possibly be the other half of Mycroft Holmes. He waited at first, assuming Sherlock would quip about it once or twice, something along the line of ‘I couldn’t understand how your s/m keeps up with you’ or some variations of it. But there were none.

John steadily got more curious about it. Mycroft was the second most unusual person in his life, and since the most unusual person – Sherlock – doesn’t have a soulmark, Mycroft’s soulmate made his imagination run wild. Would the other half be as unusual as Mycroft? Or deceptively normal? Woman? Man? Both?

And apparently, it wasn’t just him. Greg, who he bonded with over complaining about Sherlock, and Donovan and Anderson, who grudgingly agreed that Sherlock is not a killer and just ex-junky sociopath, were curious about it too. When they occasionally got together for a drink or a soccer game at pub, they wondered about it with their assumptions getting more ridiculous as they became more inebriated.

He never asked about it despite of his curiousity, though. But when the disaster of The Woman was over and John handed over her phone to Sherlock, it came up.

“Ask, John.” Sherlock suddenly said without looking up from the microscope.

John was used to it by now, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t stop making him awkward, Sherlock knowing what’s on his mind.

He cleared his throat. “So… was The Woman your…” He gestured vaguely on the direction of Sherlock’s body instead of saying it.

“My soulmate? No, John. She's not my soulmate.” Sherlock scoffed, as he usually does with everything related to emotions. “And I told you, girlfriend is not my area.” Sherlock gave him his usual ‘you idiot’ gaze.

John cleared his throat again. “Okay. Okay, good. Then what about…” He just fluttered his hands helplessly.

Sherlock shot him a look, looking up from the microscope, as he didn’t finish his sentence. “What?”

“Moriarty?” John asked more delicately this time.

Sherlock’s expression turned disgusted now. “No, John. Irene Adler is not my soulmate, and Jim Moriarty is not my soulmate. I _don’t_ have a soulmark. You didn’t saw any ink on me at the palace, did you?”

John shrugged. “Well, I didn’t see your lower half. And you may have contacted with someone after that.”

Sherlock snorted. “I contacted with Moriarty the first time when he came to see me as Molly’s boyfriend. I touched The Woman during our home invasion. And I heard that soulmark sears into one’s skin, not giving much of a chance to miss it. Believe me, John. I don’t have a soulmark.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to the microscope.

John nodded, but he noticed that Sherlock didn’t say he doesn’t have a soulmate. He said he doesn’t have a ‘soulmark’. So maybe Sherlock isn’t dismissing the possibility of him having one. Which was interesting, considering Sherlock’s usual attempts of detachment from everything emotional or physical. He filed it on the corner of his mind.

Anyway, now that they are talking about soulmate… “Can I ask about Mycroft’s soulmate?” John found himself speaking blurting out. He blushed slightly. It wasn’t a taboo, the asking, but the whole soulmate business still deemed quite personal.

Sherlock looked up from the microscope once again and quirked his brow. “You finally decided to ask?”

John huffed. Of course Sherlock has noticed. He was 100% sure Mycroft knows it, too. He never thought it otherwise, but it’s still frustrating. He nodded.

“His soulmate died a long time ago.” Sherlock said, while shrugging.

John suddenly regretted asking it. Misfortune of meeting a soulmate early, then. “Oh,” was all John could say. He was not sure he should hear this.

“I don’t know who the counterpart was. I never met him. Mycroft started his career after he graduated with several doctorates at 22. When he was around 24, he came home with a ring and said the other one is dead. I’m assuming he was an agent as well, and died during a mission. He doesn’t like to talk about him, but he doesn’t mind others knowing the fact.” Sherlock explained, showing unusual amount of kindness and care.

John nodded. A tragedy, losing one’s soulmate so young and living alone. And he felt sorry for Mycroft’s loss, but that’s all he could do. He shuffled his foot for a few seconds, before nodding once more to Sherlock as a thank you, and went to pick up his laptop.

After that, John was sure his attitude screams at Mycroft that he knows about Mycroft’s soulmate every time he meets him, but Mycroft doesn’t say anything other than just quirking his eyebrow the first time.

It slowly started to recede from John’s mind as nothing changed with the revelation, when it became completely unimportant fact to John.

Sherlock jumped.


	2. Departure

Sherlock waited John to disappear from his sight and then waited some more before finally slipping into an unmarked black car without being seen.

“It was too risky for you to come today, Sherlock.” Mycroft admonished softly as the car started to move.

Sherlock shrugged, looking out the tinted window. “It’s not everyday one could attend their own funeral.”

“It’s not everyday one has to attend their relative’s fake funeral with grieving and blaming acquaintances as well.” Mycroft sighed tiredly.

Sherlock finally turned to look at Mycroft instead of the cemetery at that. Dressed in black from head to toe, even black leather gloves. Other than the color, nothing was different. Mycroft was in his usual perfectly tailored three-piece suit and expression. But there’s something in Mycroft’s voice, something which almost resembles sadness. Nonsense, why would Mycroft be sad when he knows he’s not actually dead? “Sentiments, Mycroft?” He quirked his eyebrow at him.

Mycroft only gave his usual fake smile as an answer before changing the topic. “I believe you remember all of our plans?”

Sherlock scowled at ever-present superiority in Mycroft’s words. “I wouldn’t be suitable for this operation if I couldn’t even remember those simple plans, would I? Don’t tell me _you_ forgot that you agreed with my suitability for the mission.” Sherlock scoffed.

“I never said you are not sufficient for this, brother mine.” Mycroft smiled. Sherlock scoffed once more before looking out the window, but Mycroft just trailed Sherlock’s feature with his eyes without saying anything.

He was thankful that his calculation – which Sherlock scathingly calls as premonition or omniscience – tells him that Sherlock really is enough for the operation and there’s relatively high chance of him getting back to his previous life without much damage. Because he was absolutely sure that Sherlock would have chosen this road even if he was not enough for it and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

That doesn’t mean that there’s no chances of Sherlock getting hurt or there won’t be unknown factors that would risk Sherlock’s life. The possibility is much higher than his liking. Mycroft sighed internally before going back to business. Sherlock won’t appreciate his concern.

He handed two phones. “As we agreed on, Moriarty’s Cells in France will be easiest to handle with current information. We will correspond as much as possible, you providing me your current situation and me providing best course of action and information. Left one is for the emergency only, keep it until you need to use it. I hope you don’t need to till the end. Right one is for our talk during France. I’ll provide you another before moving on to another country.” Sherlock’s scowl started to deepen as he repeats everything they agreed on, but Mycroft ignored it.

“Consider me as your handler, Sherlock. This is extremely dangerous mission, and you’ll need all the information you can get. Don’t hesitate to ask for something because I’m the one corresponding with you.” Mycroft said sternly, and stared at Sherlock until Sherlock gave a grudging nod. Mycroft was relieved. Slightly. “Please be careful, Sherlock.” He couldn’t help but end with a slight plea. He refrained from talking about drugs. It will only start a fight.

Even though Mycroft didn’t say anything about drugs, it was enough for Sherlock to be defiant, and Sherlock heard the unsaid words anyway. He turned to Mycroft to say something truly acidic, but stopped when he met Mycroft’s eyes. Mycroft is genuinely worried and pained at letting him do this to allow it to be seen through his eyes.

Sherlock clicked his mouth shut and sharply turned his head back to gaze out the window, but he wasn’t seeing anything. He nodded once after a few moments.

Mycroft smiled.

The car was filled with silence for the rest of the journey. Sherlock was gazing out without actually seeing anything, mind filled with various things. Future, plans, his fake death, John, Moriarty. And Mycroft. And Mycroft spent the time memorizing everything he’s seeing into his mind palace. There’s no guarantee when he could see him next.

The ride was soon over with them being in their respective thoughts. Mycroft handed a coat that looks nothing like Sherlock’s as they arrived. Sherlock was already wearing clothes and makeups for disguise, needing only a coat to complete it.

When Sherlock finished wearing coat and slicking his curls back, Mycroft handed him a briefcase containing all the needed documents for now. Before Sherlock stands up, Mycroft couldn’t help but place his gloved hand on Sherlock’s knee and squeeze slightly for a second. “Good luck.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but didn’t dismiss Mycroft’s hand immediately. He stepped off the car when Mycroft removed his hand, and poked his head in for a moment. “Look after John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft. And watch your waistline.” With that, he slammed the door shut.

Mycroft smiled fondly at Sherlock’s concern. He watched Sherlock walking into the station in a humped stance. No one will be able to recognize Sherlock, with timid body language, unfashionable checkered shirt, jean, baseball cap, and sunglasses big enough to hide his cheekbone.

When Sherlock was out of his sight, he tapped the division. It slid open to reveal Anthea.

“Let’s go back to the Whitehall.”

“Are you sure, sir? You are allowed to take some time off with your brother’s death.” Anthea said in a worried tone. She’s asking if others won’t get suspicious of him not taking any time off at his brother’s death. They would have to be careful of everything they say from now on.

“It’s okay, Anthea. My codename is Antarctica for a reason.” He gave her a cold smile, the one he uses to make others think he’s a cold hearted machine. Anthea seemed slightly reluctant, but understood his hidden meaning perfectly as usual. They soon started to head Whitehall.

“And Anthea, sorry for making you drive today.” There wasn’t much of a choice, with Sherlock’s survival being more than a top secret, but that doesn’t mean he’s not feeling sorry. He knows she’s not fond of being apart from her blackberry.

Anthea met his eyes over the back mirror. She smiled. “It was my pleasure. I expect a box of chocolate tomorrow.”

Mycroft chuckled. He already ordered it yesterday, and she knows it. “It will be delivered promptly.”

He shot a final glance at the receding station. Please be safe, Sherlock.


	3. France

Mycroft checked the time. It was more than enough for Sherlock to arrive at France and find a slightly decent place to stay. He pulled out a new phone he prepared for this purpose and tapped into a dating app with a grimace. He never thought he would use one in his life. _Ever_.

He soon found a profile they agreed on for now and sent a message.

Ian : [ Hello, Steven. ]

The reply came back before long, thankfully.

Steven : [ If you are looking for a trouble, you should look somewhere else. ]

No problem and no recognition, then. Good. Mycroft let out a relieved sigh, thanks to the privacy his bedroom provides.

Ian : [ I should be glad that I wasn’t, then. I can see from your profile that you are currently in Rennes. Is it for work? Or are you traveling? ]

Steven : [ A bit of both. I also wrote that I’m a photographer, didn’t I? ]

Mycroft smiled as he could clearly hear Sherlock’s impatience from the words.

Ian : [ So you are traveling and taking photos. Where do you intend to go tomorrow? Do you have any specific plans? Or are you one of those who wander around without specific goal in mind? ]

Mycroft and Sherlock didn’t map out specific plans for each country. They weren’t able to have many meetings to prevent any suspicions, and they had to focus mostly on finding cells, and making plans for overall plan, faking death, and contingency plans. So they both know the location of cells in France, but they didn’t make detailed plans of how to tear them down.

Steven : [ I usually have some specific targets in mind when traveling. But I’m thinking of taking some time to get the feel tomorrow. I only arrived today. ]

Wondering around the alleys, then. He was glad that Sherlock isn’t heading straight to the cell. He doesn’t even have any weapons on him to pass the border.

Ian : [ I contacted you because I was glad to see someone in the city I traveled some time ago. It was quite a beautiful city, especially a park near the museum of fine arts of Rennes. Parc du Thabor was the name, I believe. ]

Steven : [ Oh? What did you like about the park? ]

Ian : [ Walking silently, mostly. Or seating at the bench and enjoying the weather. Usually on early morning or late afternoon to be away from the crowds. ]

Steven : [ I’m sure you are fond of seating down and doing nothing. Well, it sounds interesting, but I don’t think I have time to go there for a few days. The nearest I planned to go this week is a post office. ]

Mycroft rolled his eyes at Sherlock’s usual jibe, but he didn’t stop a smile forming on his lips. There’s no one to see.

Anyway, post office for the weapon delivery, then.

Ian : [ Post office would be interesting as well, I’m sure. You said you would just wander around tomorrow. Are you planning to visit there the next day? ]

Steven : [ Yes, I am quite looking forward to see the workers’ face when they come back from the lunch break. ]

Mycroft rolled his eyes again. Of course.

Ian : [ That does sound interesting. I’m looking forward to hearing your experience. It’s quite late now, can I talk to you tomorrow? ]

Steven : [ I’ll be waiting. ]

Mycroft smiled, imagining Sherlock’s grimace while typing that to keep up the appearance, before turning the phone off.

He sighed. One day down, unknown to go.


	4. France

Sherlock looked down to see the well-timed incoming message. The guards took notice of him loitering, and he couldn’t move immediately when spotted since it would seem more suspicious. The message will give him a good excuse of being stood up, so he made an overeager expression as he checked his phone.

Ian : [ I hope your visit to the post office today was fruitful? ]

He suppressed an urge to roll his eyes to keep up the cover. How Mycroft-like.

Steven : [ It was. They were absolutely devastated at coming back to work on such a nice day. But I think it’s time I ask _you_ a question. You didn’t tell me much about you. ]

Ian : [ Oh, I am a planner of sort. That’s why I visited Rennes some time ago and our company will send someone again soon. Sadly, my subordinate will go instead of me this time. ]

So another agent will be deployed for the case. Sherlock made a disappointed face, sighing and getting up as a perfect picture of dejection. He saw guards dismissing him on his peripheral vision while his hand was busy typing.

Steven : [ Why? Are your company expanding a branch located here? ]

Sherlock snorted at calling Britain a _company_.

Ian : [ No, but our competitor provoked us recently, and we decided to put some more effort to it. ]

Sherlock hummed. So their plan worked. Mycroft is feigning vengeance to take down Moriarty’s network, and Sherlock’s role is to gain critical information with efficiency no agents could provide. Then Mycroft’s people will dismantle the web one by one with the information.

Nobody would get suspicious at all. They will just think that Mycroft was being omniscience again, drawing out these amount of critical information from the sea of reports.

Steven : [ It’s a shame that you won’t come yourself and let your subordinate come instead. We could have met up for a coffee. I still have some travel left to go back to England. ]

Sherlock snarked, adding some plausible sentences to keep up the pretense. It was annoying.

Ian : [ I would very much like that, but probably now’s not the time. When are you leaving Rennes? ]

Sherlock ignored the first part. It’s just a filler, just like his. Mycroft asking his progress only after two days, though. He scoffed, typing an answer.

Steven : [ I’ve been here for only two and a half days. You said you liked here, do you want me to move on so soon? ]

Ian : [ Maybe I’m hoping you would return sooner if you stay shorter on each destination. So you went Rennes to do more than taking a look at post office? ]

Sherlock paused seeing the first sentence, but soon discarded it as well. He huffed. Even if Rennes was more of a place for Sherlock to lay low after his ‘death’ than a place that needs Sherlock’s brain desperately, two days are just too short.

He did get some information loitering, though.

Steven : [ Well, I admit that I came with a specific purpose in mind, and I saw the place today. As expected, the light changes beautifully as the time goes by. I want to see if the impression of color is similar on the same time tomorrow. ]

Ian : [ Oh? Is there any particular color or atmosphere you are hoping? ]

Steven : [ As expected, lime was dominant under the sun. I want to take a shot while the color is more muted. If I go just before the sunset, it will resemble grey. I’m aiming for that. ]

The gang members he saw today was just that, a gangster. An educated and civil looking gangster, but gangster nonetheless with one brain. They are following that brain – Moriarty’s man – just because he’s ruthless and they can clearly see he’s beneficial for them. They don’t even know about Moriarty. If Moriarty’s man is eliminated, they won’t be a part of Moriarty’s web anymore.

And that’s why Mycroft and Sherlock chose here as a first target. Sherlock just has to verify no other members are connected to Moriarty and decide when and how to kill the man most efficiently. The latter is a cakewalk. Sherlock imagines ways to kill his acquaintances to stimulate his brain if he’s bored. This is no different.

Ian : [ I’m quite sure it won’t change much. So you will be done by tomorrow, I assume? ]

Sherlock rolled his eyes this time. There’s no guards to see. And look who’s being impatient now, hah.

Steven : [ I think so if the light really is the same. Then, I’ll be crossing the border. I’m afraid I would change the phone crossing it. ]

Ian : [ Shame. I can talk to you while you are at Rennes, though, right? ]

Steven : [ Of course. I’ll let you know if the light is different and have to stay a few more days to catch the perfect light. ]

Ian : [ I would be waiting for other conversations as well, Steven. It’s late. Good night. ]

Sherlock rolled his eyes once again. Mycroft doesn’t like texting, bordering on distasting it. And he already delivered next phone. Why is he wanting to _talk_? With this tiresome pretense, nonetheless?

He sighed, dropping the phone next to his pillow. The target must be a creature of habit. Mycroft’s never wrong with that kind of thing. He’ll be going to Spain tomorrow night, then, since they decided to leave rest of the France for now.

He closed his eyes. He’s getting bored already. He’s dreading rest of the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking the cities and countries are the most hard part of this story lol.  
> Please don't get affronted if I chose/didn't choose certain cities or got the atmosphere wrong of certain cities. I am picking the cities by drawing lots, and politics and history is not my strong suit :(  
> Feel free to point it out if (when) I got something wrong!


	5. Chapter 5

It was similar for the next several months. They corresponded with the guise of dating apps - several, just in case, much to Mycroft and Sherlock both's dismay - for Sherlock to report current status and Mycroft to relay information.

And after three months, Sherlock snapped. Even though there were chaotic termoils after Moriarty's death, Sherlock has to lay low and be careful just in case - Mycroft was _adamant_ with it -, which means a lot of observatory ones like at Rennes and lots of downtime between cities. Sherlock was **_BORED_**.

Sherlock was sprawled face down at his bed for the time being and just breathing. Which is insanely _boring_.

Finally, contrary to his better judgement, he picked up his current phone from the nightstand. There were several more similar urges before this, which he managed to talk him out of it thankfully, but he just can't stand anymore. He needs some kind of stimulation, any kind, and he has enough common sense - he scoffed at the terminology - to know he couldn't resort to drugs during his tour.

William : [ What are you doing right now? ]

It didn't take much for Mycroft to respond. He never does, in case there's some kind of emergency.

Leo : [ Working, I'm afraid. But I can be persuaded to take some time off. What do you have in mind? ]

So not in the meeting right now, and he's asking if something's wrong. Sherlock clenched his hand around the phone for a moment before start typing again. He already contacted Mycroft, and he will know this is not his usual work-related message anyway even if Sherlock decided to stop.

William : [ No, but I was sure you could come up with something. ]

Leo : [ Oh.]

Oh? _Mycroft_ sent _Oh?_ Mycroft never sends something so meaningless. Sherlock arched his brow at such unusual behavior from his brother. He must be really rattled that Sherlock contacted _him_ during his boredom. Which, to be fair, didn't happen since Mycroft took off to university. Even though Sherlock couldn't contact anyone else right now, it's not like he contacted Mycroft before Lestrade or John.

Sherlock huffed at Mycroft being so unsettled at small thing like this. And intrigued. He never managed to rile him up this easily before. It could be fun. Or at least it might reduce this brain-melting boredom.

Leo : [ I am glad that you thought of me while you are bored. What do you say about solving some puzzles? ]

It didn't take long for Mycroft to gather himself and send another message. Only a few seconds. Damn. But it could be equivalent to an hour considering it's Mycroft. Anyway, puzzles. Hmm.

William : [ Depends on their complexity. ]

Leo : [ You know I have access to scripts from crime dramas, which you assured me that you didn't watch. What about figuring out villains of each episode? And for my defense, I did not write those scripts, so spare me if some plots are too straightforward. ]

Sherlock jumped up from the bed. So Mycroft will send him case files. Cases from secret service? No, they are too sensitive to be sent outside, especially the ones Sherlock will find interesting. And if he's being honest, Mycroft doesn't need Sherlock to solve the ones that doesn't need extra legwork. Yard's, then. Most of it will be idiotic, but maybe Mycroft will sensor some truly idiotic ones? Right now, he is too bored to gladly - with loud complaints if John's here - take 4. Not below that, though. He still have some standards.

Sherlock typed the message excitedly.

William : [ I need it, give it to me. ]

Leo : [ Bossy, aren't we? Give me an hour to gather a few. ]

An hour? Mycroft must be really busy right now or he will select some good ones, then. Sherlock stilled for a second, considering whether to send thanks or not. He discarded the idea swiftly. He must really be out of his own mind if he is considering it, even if it's just for the sake of maintaining the cover.

Sherlock dove back to the bed, having to spend one more hour of excruciating waiting. Mycroft should hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite short, I know. I will try my best to write more!


End file.
